As He Lay Dying
by HopeIsHere16
Summary: It was beautifully tragic, in a way; in fact, it was almost poetic. There he was, sprawled upon the gravel, his own hook lodged in his chest. He, like every other villain, knew that a happy ending wasn't in the cards for him. But if he could just see her one last time, then maybe this ending wouldn't be so bad. Captain Swan, post-4x04.
1. Chapter 1

**As He Lay Dying**

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Once Upon A Time :( **

**Author's Note: So! This is my first endeavor into OUAT, and I'm _so_ excited! I am completely in love with this series, and I am thrilled to finally be writing for it. Let me say up front that my favorite ships from this show thus far have been Captain Swan and Rumbelle. As a result, most of the fanfiction I produce for this fandom will be centered around those couples. That being said, I am making it a personal goal to make my stories as realistic as I can, so I'll be keeping things as in-character as possible. Thank you so much for reading, and please review with your thoughts! :) **

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><p><strong>Warning: Following Chapter contains <span>character death<span>. Proceed with caution.**

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><p>It was beautifully tragic, in a way; in fact, it was almost poetic. There he was, sprawled upon the gravel, blood pooling around his body, his own hook lodged in his chest.<p>

The pain was suffocating; it was all he was aware of in those moments. The blinding sunlight above him reflected off the pool of blood on the street, causing it to sparkle and glow with an almost magical quality. But Killian didn't even realize he was bleeding. All he knew was that his chest was on fire, he was burning; he was dying, and he couldn't even move to stop it.

He had never given up before, and a part of him was fighting like hell not to give up now. He'd told her, he'd told Emma, he'd said, "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving." That's what he had to do; he had to pull through this, he had to survive, he had to move forward...

He tried to sit up. It took every ounce of his strength and willpower, but he slowly lifted his head from the ground. Some small rocks fell from his hair, and clattered back down. Killian focused on the sound of those rocks falling to distract himself from the pain of his wound.

And just when it seemed like he might be alright, like he might find someone to help him, the hook dug further into his chest, and he gasped with such surprise that his entire body fell heavily backwards once more.

There was absolutely no hope, and Killian realized that as the hook dug deeper still. He wondered if it would come through the other side; he hoped he would already be dead before he found out. How was he even still alive? How long would it take for these agonizing final moments to end?

He was a villain; he always had been, and he probably always would be. He, like every other villain, knew that a happy ending wasn't in the cards for him. But if he could just see her one final time, then this ending wouldn't be so bad.

Killian was a firm believer in fate; most "fairy-tale" characters, as Emma called them, were. So he wasn't quite as surprised as, say, she would've been when he saw a head of wavy blonde hair across the street.

She was walking with her son and another woman; based on the color of the other woman's hair, Killian assumed that it was Belle. They were walking with purpose, so Killian deduced that they were most likely attempting to find more clues as to the Snow Queen's whereabouts. They were so distracted, so focused, that they didn't even notice him.

He couldn't let her leave him so quickly; she was like sand that was slipping through his fingers. He knew that he was too late for any kind of help to save him, but he had to tell her how much he loved her; he had to say goodbye.

He wasn't sure how he managed to call out to her. He'd thought he'd used the last of his strength trying to sit up. Still, his rough, hoarse voice called out, "Swan!" as loudly as his weakening body would let him.

Her head swung back quickly, as he knew it would. She was such a quick thinker, she always seemed to sense when she was needed before anyone even asked her for help. For a moment, Killian saw her eyes scan the area around her, looking for the source of the voice she'd heard. He knew the exact moment she saw his crumpled form, because those big, beautiful eyes of hers widened with panic. She ran to him with force, Henry and Belle dashing only a step or two behind her.

She reached him within seconds, falling to her knees by his side. At first, she said nothing, her mouth hanging open in shock as though she didn't quite believe what she was seeing. She blinked rapidly, and Killian could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes. He hated to see her cry; he wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but lay there.

"Killian," she whispered, her head shaking back and forth in obvious denial. Her breathing was picking up a bit, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. She swallowed heavily, her hands shaking as they reached for the hook that was, by this point, smeared with his blood. She grabbed Killian's wrist, as though she was preparing to rip the hook from his chest. Killian, anticipating the pain that would follow if she did so, grabbed her hand with his, and pulled it away slowly.

_No, please don't_, he pleaded with his eyes. She shook her head once more, trying to form a coherent thought between the pain that was surely tearing through her mind.

"I have to," she argued stubbornly, her voice thick with endless sadness. "Killian, please, I have to. It'll hurt for a minute, but it's the only way to -"

But Killian shook his head sadly, and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "It won't come out."

"What?" asked Emma, obviously confused. "What do you mean it won't come out? Who did this to you?" she was becoming more panicked, and Killian noted that she was even more on edge than before. She was used to these kinds of emergencies, but she was so much more shaken than usual. Was it because of him? Did she care about him more than he'd seen?

Killian's eyes flickered once to Belle, who was staring at him in mute horror. Her eyes were shining, showing that she, too, was almost on the verge of tears. She, too, would be crying for him.

He could have told them; to be honest, he probably should have. He could've shared with them that it was Rumplestiltskin's fault, his magic, that had done this. But as he stared into Belle's eyes, he realized that by speaking the truth, he would be breaking her heart. She was a good girl; she deserved her happy ending. And considering that he was truly a changed man, he would let her have it.

So he looked seriously at Emma, and said, "Magic. But it - doesn't - matter."

"Of course it matters!" screamed Emma. Then, she thought back on her words a moment, and lowered her voice. She was still crying, but she was trying to get ahold of herself. She leaned in closer to him, and for a split second, Killian thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, she told him quietly, "But it doesn't matter now. Right now, we have to heal you. We can talk about this later. You're going to be fine, okay?"

Killian chuckled a tiny bit, but the action hurt him, so he stopped and cringed with pain. He gasped between labored breaths, "'s too late for me, Swan."

"No, it's not!" Emma spat stubbornly. She tore her eyes away from Killian for just a moment to shout back behind her, "Go get help! Now!"

"Rumple's shop is just over here, I'm sure he'll have something we can use!" said Belle. Before Killian could tell her not to, she grabbed Henry's hand and ran in the direction of Mr. Gold's shop. It was only Emma and Killian on an otherwise deserted street.

"Lucky the town - seems - to - be - busy today." whispered Killian, trying so hard to smirk. Just seeing Emma's face now, no matter how distraught it may be, was taking his mind off of his imminent death. "Gives us more privacy." He suggestively raised an eyebrow, trying to seem normal.

"Killian," sobbed Emma, her voice rising an octave with worry. Her tears were beginning to flow more rapidly, blinding her vision.

"Shh," said Killian, trying to soothe the inconsolable woman before him. His arm felt like naught but dead weight, but he lifted it anyway, and wiped away one of the tears on Emma's cheek. He left a smear of blood upon her face, but she didn't seem to notice, and if she did, she must not have cared.

"Killian," cried Emma, her courage falling away to pieces. She was breaking down, Killian could see it. She pressed herself to him as closely as she could without causing him unneccessary pain, and breathed out, "Please don't leave me."

"I'll never leave you, love." said Killian, struggling to push the words out. His vision swam; the end was nearing, he could feel it. But he pushed through the haze for a few moments longer, just so he could comfort Emma one last time. He lifted his hand a final time, pressed it to her heart, and said, "I'll always be with you." Killian knew that he sounded cliché, sappy, whatever you wanted to call it, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Emma clasped her hand with Killian's, holding it to her chest with as much strength as she could. "Is it too much to ask for you to stay with me alive?" she asked, and Killian couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. Her tears were making any facials expressions appear contorted.

Killian chuckled just a bit, shook his head slightly to one side, closed his eyes, and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too," said Emma. She pressed her lips to his, conveying to him just how much he was loved. The kiss tasted of salty tears and hopeless desire, but it was perfect in its own right.

Killian kissed her for only a moment before his head fell back, limp, and his hand began to slip from hers. Emma vaguely heard Belle returning with Henry and Gold, but she couldn't understand their words. It was like they were speaking another language or something. Their voices were panicked, they were talking to her, they were trying to move her aside, but she couldn't focus on anything but Killian's still chest.

"No," she murmured, shaking her head. Her voice slowly rose, and she began to shake Killian as hard as she could, keeping in mind that she had to be careful not to hurt where his hook was still lodged in his chest. "No, Killian, no! Please, _please_! Come back to me, _come back to me_!" her sobs became more profound, and she latched herself onto him as tightly as she could. His leather jacket, which was stained with his blood, was now staining with her tears, and the scent of his cologne made her cry even more.

Finally, someone managed to pry her away from Killian, though she couldn't see who, and she heard Mr. Gold roughly say to her, "Step _aside_, Miss Swan!" She saw him spring down to wear Killian lay, and she turned behind her to see that Belle was the one holding her back. Belle was crying, too, though not as heavily as Emma was, and needing the comfort, Emma fell back and cried into Belle's shoulder. Belle responded by rubbing soothing circles upon her back, trying to ease the shaking. Henry looked sadly onward, unsure of what he could do to make the situation right.

Emma's eyes flickered one last time to the pavement below her, taking in the sight of Killian's face. He looked almost peaceful, like he was just sleeping. He seemed perfectly relaxed, serene, even. The only aspect of him saying otherwise, from what Emma was able to see, was the single silver tear resting upon his cheek.

"I love you," Emma kept whispering over and over again. Her grief consumed her, and the entire situation felt dream-like. It was as if she wasn't actually there, like none of it was real, like she would wake up any moment and Killian would be laughing and smirking and calling her "Love"...

The only thought that gave Emma any comfort at all was that at least Killian died knowing that he was loved. And that was some kind of happy ending...wasn't it?

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><p><strong>I made myself cry while writing this :( I'd really like to continue this, what do you guys think? One-shot, or could it go further? Let me know! Oh, and I forgot to mention above; this story takes place after episode 4x04, but is not 4x05 compliant. The idea I went with is that Rumple cursed Killian's hook to get rid of him. There was so much tension between those two in <em>The Apprentice <em>that I wondered what might happen if things got out of hand. This is what I came up with. I think that's everything from my end, guys. Thanks to everyone for reading! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Emma sat completely and utterly alone. For the past hour, her eyes had been staring forlornly at the brick wall of her living room; she seemed to be memorizing the patterns of the bricks' imperfections. She was hyper-aware of everything; the strings that were coming loose from the blanket that was pulled around her shoulders, the small stain on the upper right-hand corner of the ceiling, even the chipping paint on the outer edge of the door frame. Every miniscule detail of the room was hers to scrutinize, and, not wanting to think about anything else, she did all she could to keep herself occupied.

She had just begun counting the individual stitches on her cream-colored sweater when her mother entered the scene, a concerned expression upon her face.

"I made Henry some soup for dinner. Would you like some?" asked Snow quietly. Her voice was delicate, as though she was afraid of shattering her daughter by speaking too loudly.

It took Emma a minute to answer; to be honest, she hadn't even realized that Snow was in the room until a few seconds after she'd spoken. Emma tore her eyes from her distractions and stared at her mother for a little while. She was so beautiful; even though she was sad-looking and worried, she glowed with an inner brightness that shone throughout Storybrooke. She was so full of life, so full of love. Emma was lucky to have her. She made a mental note never to take either of her parents, nor her son, for granted ever again. They could be taken from her much too easily.

_You'd think that you of all people would've learned that lesson by now_, her mind chastised her. Emma shooed the thought away as she answered a waiting Snow.

"No thanks." she cringed at the sound of her own voice; it sounded like she hadn't spoken in years.

Snow tried to manage a smile, and though she failed miserably, Emma appreciated the effort. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"Yeah, will do." replied Emma hastily, wiping her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Even when she wasn't directly thinking about him, his absence left a gaping hole in her heart, and she couldn't manage to keep the tears at bay.

Snow went to turn away, but thought better of it, and slowly moved to sit next to Emma on the couch. She watched her daughter's passive face; the only sign that she wasn't a statue were the tears that wouldn't seem to cease. Without a word, Snow curled next to Emma, and put her arms around her daughter's shaking shoulders. The shivering and sadness hadn't stopped since she'd come home in a dreadful state two hours earlier, after being taken from the scene of Killian Jones's death by Belle Gold. Since then, Emma had barely spoken two words to anyone, saying only that she wanted to be alone.

Emma leaned into her mother's embrace, and allowed herself the luxury of crying for only a few minutes before saying, "I'm sorry."

This stunned Snow; so much so, that she snapped back immediately, "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I know loss better than anyone," explained Emma quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've seen people die before; Graham, Neal...I shouldn't be so torn up over Hoo - over Kill - over him." she couldn't even manage to say his name without her eyes stinging painfully. Her breath hitched each time she tried to speak of him. It made her sound even more pathetic than she already felt.

"Emma," whispered Snow incredulously, smoothing her daughter's damp hair from her clammy forehead. It scared Snow so much that Hook's death was having such a painful effect on Emma. "Don't apologize for the way you feel. You loved him; you have every right to be upset."

"But that's my problem." Emma pointed out, trying to slow her breathing, which had rapidly picked up once more. "I could move on if I was just _upset_. I feel like I'm going to die without him. I can't see anything for me from this point. I don't know what to do, mom." Emma sounded completely empty and hopeless. She'd never felt herself exist in such a state before.

Snow was saying something else, but Emma had closed her eyes and tuned her out. She loved her mother dearly, but she couldn't help her; no one could help her. Closing her eyes, however, turned out to be a mistake, because all she could see in her mind's eye was his face.

_"Killian Jones. But, most people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker; Hook." _

The memory hit her like a tsunami; it was overwhelming. They had come so far since that first meeting, only for it to end in tragedy.

She'd lived a life before him; but now, she couldn't live without him.

"I think I'll go upstairs and lie down," said Emma suddenly, feeling a wave of nausea overtake her. She realized that she must have interrupted Snow mid-sentence, because her mother gave a surprised, "Oh! Okay, go right on ahead, try to get some rest." as she was ascending to the upper-level of the apartment.

She remembered when she'd almost lost him the first time. There'd been a moment when she'd thought she hadn't done enough, before he'd woken up coughing. That agonizing moment had scared the hell out of her, and she hadn't loved him half as much then as she would come to shortly after. Now that he was gone for good, and their true love's kiss hadn't saved him, she realized what the full extent of losing him truly meant. And it _hurt_.

So Emma lay down on her bed, mentally and physically exhausted, and cried herself to sleep, only to find that even in her dreams, there was no comfort. For even in her dreams, his death haunted her heart.

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><p>He woke up in hell.<p>

Or, at least he assumed he was in hell. Being strapped to a chair in the crocodile's lair was the closest thing to hell he could imagine, anyway. His head was pounding, his throat was raw, and he could still taste the blood.

At first, everything was dark. His vision was blurry around the edges, and it took him far too long to ascertain his location. When he figured out that he was in Rumplestiltskin's office, however, he was snapped back into reality. He immediately went to stand up to get the _hell_ out of there, only to discover that he was bound by rope to the chair beneath him. He also made note of the fact that where his hook should have been, there was nothing.

Exasperated, Killian hit his head off the back of his chair as hard as he could. How many times would the crocodile best him?

Remembering how he was bested in the first place, Killian's head looked quickly down to his chest, which had, the last time he'd seen it, been covered in his blood. He was astounded to find that while, yes, his new leather jacket was still covered in the rust-colored liquid, there was no wound and there was no pain.

"What the bloody _he_-" Killian began to curse loudly, but was interrupted by the smug voice of the Dark One.

"Well, well, well, dearie," drawled Rumple in his eerily elegant voice. "Finally awake, are we?"

"_You!_" Killian growled, wrestling to free himself from his confinements. He snarled, anger clear upon his face, seemingly ready to kill Rumple at his first chance. "_You did this to me!_"

"Now, now," chided Rumple haughtily, smirking at Killian's attempts to break free. "Musn't do that, pirate. You might hurt yourself."

"Oh, don't worry about _me_," said Killian dangerously, gritting his teeth. "It's your own neck I'd be keeping an eye on, _crocodile_." The insult flew from Killian's lips with practiced precision, and he could feel his more violent side emerging even more than it had been before.

Rumplestiltskin pretended to be both stunned and offended for a fraction of a moment before he dropped the act and said, "Now is that any way to treat the man who saved your life?"

"_Saved_?" cried Killian in disbelief, his eyes wild with fury. If he could just get his hand around the crocodile's throat - "You're the one who bloody did that to me in the _first_ place!"

Rumple, feigning innocence still, put a hand on his chest and asked, "Why would I want to do that?"

"Don't play games with me," growled Killian lowly, his voice taking on a deadly edge. "Release me _now_, or I'll make you wish you had."

"Very well, dearie," said Rumple, and with a wave of his hand the ropes loosened, freeing Killian. Shocked that the crocodile had actually listened to him, it took Killian a minute to act upon his new freedom. He, predictably, stalked to Rumple with a murderous glint in his eyes. But just as he was reaching him, Rumple disappeared in a puff of smoke, reappearing several paces behind the ravenous pirate. Killian turned around, intent on ending the life of the man in front of him, when Rumple held out his hand and stopped Killian in his tracks.

"What, you think I'm going to fall for _this_ again?" asked Killian, gesturing to the hook that Rumple offered him. "Don't take me for a fool, crocodile."

"There's nothing wrong with it," insisted Rumple, holding the hook out further. "I don't need to destroy you any longer. The work's already been done."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Killian arrogantly, raising an eyebrow and taking the hook. He inspected it for quite some time before actually re-attaching it to his body. When he was satisfied that it would do him no harm, he relaxed slightly.

"Just as I've said," stated Rumple, brushing the subject off. "What's important is that I have already packed your bags for you, and you are free to leave Storybrooke anytime you like." Rumple paused, taking a few dangerous steps towards Killian. "Though if I were you, I think I would choose to go sooner rather than later, dearie."

Killian actually began to laugh at the ludicrous statement. He raised his hook towards Rumple in a threatening way, the sharp point at the base of the crocodile's throat. "Why on earth would I _leave_ Storybrooke?" he asked suspiciously. Rumplestiltskin shrugged.

He whispered, "Maybe because there's nothing left for you here."

The way he said it made the hairs on the back of Killian's neck stand up. But he was a pirate, brave and unafraid of anything, so he said, "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Rumple smugly. "Miss Swan, of course."

Killian's blood ran cold. If there had been any conflict in his heart about killing the Dark One before, it was certainly gone now. He backed the crocodile against the wall, their faces inches apart, and asked with malice in his words, "_What have you done to her?"_

"Not a thing, dearie." insisted Rumple innocently. "You did all the damage yourself."

"The only pain I caused Emma sprung from the fact that I was _dying_ because of _you_." stated Killian matter-of-factly. He released Rumple roughly, shoving him back into the shelves of the office as hard as he could. He continued, "I fail to see how I have lost her."

"Oh, but you didn't see her after your apparent _death_, did you, pirate?" asked Rumple cunningly. He began to smile slightly as he dusted off his suit and told Killian, "She was all too glad to be rid of you."

Killian's heart faltered for a minute in pain, before he realized that this was surely another trick meant only to hurt him. Confident in Emma's love, he replied sternly, "Now see, _mate_, I know that's not true. Emma _loves_ me. She told me so herself. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be needing to go and find her." Killian moved to leave the office, only to be stopped once more by Rumple's voice.

"She only said that because she knew you were a dead man. She feels more relieved now than she has since you came into her life. Think about it, pirate. You've been nothing but a nuisance to Miss Swan since the moment she met you." Rumple smiled a bit as he concluded, "But you do what you feel is right. If you wish to find her, I heard that she was going out tonight to _celebrate_. I'm sure you'll be able to locate her." Satisfied that he'd stopped the pirate, Rumplestiltskin vanished once again, leaving Killian to his thoughts, alone. Rumple was practically glowing; for if there was one thing he loved more than killing the pirate, it was introducing him to a fate worse than death. And living without the woman he loved for a _second_ time would certainly qualify.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! I don't know how long I am planning on making this, I'm just going with the flow right now. I'd like to thank everyone for the support shown in chapter 1 - it honestly blew me away! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this :) To answer one question; I wouldn't be opposed to the idea of taking a request, fire away if you have one! :) Now I know that this was a quick update, but not all of my updates will come the day after a previous one. I'd say allow a few days in between chapters :) But I have some great ideas for this, so I won't be giving up until I finish with a flourish! Again, thank you to every single reviewer, your comments mean so much to me! Hope to see you around for Chapter 3!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It had been a long time since Killian had been this drunk.

He swaggered along the docks at a leisurely pace, swaying from side to side as he went. The moon hung high in the sky above him, lighting his way as he passed the ships. Their hulls seemed to beckon to him, calling out his name.

He passed them one by one, surveying them with a critical eye. And at each one, he slurred slowly, "_You're_ not the Jolly Roger..._you're_ not the Jolly Roger...Damn it! W-Where's me Jolly Roger?"

Eventually, he found himself sunk down on a bench, awkwardly sprawled out with a large bottle of rum cradled in his lap. It was settled against his leather jacket, almost three-fourths of the way gone. The remaining liquid sloshed back and forth with each breath Killian took.

He began to nod off, but when his head slumped forward, he immediately snapped back up. He looked down at the rum, as though he couldn't remember how it had gotten there. He asked it angrily, "Whot the bloody 'ell are you doing here, mate? I didn't invite you." Then, Killian began to absurdly laugh at his own joke, his guffaws drowning out the sound of the water behind him.

In all honesty, though, Killian couldn't remember what had driven him to his current state of inebriation. If he had been sober, maybe he would've remembered the hour-long internal debate he'd had with himself outside of the crocodile's pawn shop. He would have remembered going back and forth between his mind and his heart, trying to consider what was right. He couldn't decide whether to reveal himself to Emma. On the one hand, if the crocodile had been lying about her relief at his death, she would surely be thrilled to have him back. However, if the bloody Dark One had been telling the truth, then Killian couldn't be selfish by intruding on her life when she didn't want him there. Frustrated at his situation, he'd gone and found himself two bottles of rum. The first one was half gone before he'd even decided to take a walk at the docks.

Since he was so slobbering drunk, however, none of that permeated his brain. The only thing on his mind was the bench beneath him and the ships around him.

"Emma who?" he asked himself bitterly, taking a large swing from the glass bottle. He laughed again, but the movement was so forceful that it caused him to tumble from the bench. He landed upon the planks of wood with a loud thud.

He lay there somberly, his lower lip jutting out. "That hurt." he whined to himself. He rolled over until he was beneath the bench, and then curled up so that he was hidden from sight. The bottle of rum was shattered and spilled only a few feet beside him.

"This is just what I get," he murmured drunkenly, shaking his head. "I almost died and my bloody rum won't even cooperate! Damn it all!"

Then, Killian's eyes flitted closed, and he began to sleep heavily. It was going to be quite a long night.

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><p>The sheriff's office had been getting calls for almost twenty minutes, but David had been out and hadn't heard them. When he got back, the phone had just begun to ring again, and he dashed quickly to answer it.<p>

"Hello?" he asked breathlessly. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and he desperately wanted to be at home with his wife and daughter, the latter of whom he was concerned about. No matter how brave she always tried to be, she'd just witnessed the death of someone she cared about, and she must have needed someone to lean on. David wanted to be one of the people she could count on if she needed them.

"Sheriff?" asked a gruff voice on the other end. David recognized it as belonging to Leroy.

"Hey, Leroy," he replied tiredly. "What's up?"

"Sorry to bug you so late," said Leroy, not sounding very sorry at all. "But there's someone at the docks that I think you should come take care of."

David laughed a little to himself. "People are allowed to be at the docks, Leroy, it's a public place."

"Yeah, but this guy's drunk off his ass and passed out beneath a bench. I can only see a hand." Leroy chuckled a bit before continuing. "I've been there before, and I wish someone would've been there to haul me out."

"That's very thoughtful Leroy," chuckled David. "I'll be out after him in a minute. Thanks for the tip."

"No problem." and then, Leroy hung up. David put the phone down as well, picked his keys up from where he'd tossed them on the desk, and bolted back out the door. If he hurried, he could be home before the hour was up.

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><p>Emma Swan was having a beautiful dream. At least, it started that way.<p>

She and Killian were walking down the sidewalk by Granny's, hand in hand. The sun was just starting to set, casting a perfect glow upon Storybrooke. They were talking about nothing in particular; Emma wasn't even listening to Killian's words. She was just staring at his lips, watching them move with each word he spoke. They turned slightly upwards into his signature smirk, and Emma's heart soared. He was so handsome.

"I love you," Emma said suddenly, interrupting Killian mid-sentence. He stared at her with wide eyes. "Did you know that?"

Killian's shock faded, and he smiled sadly at Emma. "Yeah, I did actually."

Emma was disappointed; it was her first time telling him, and he wouldn't even say it back. "Oh." she said, letting the topic drop. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Killian forced her to meet his eyes, and he said seriously, "As I recall, you spoke those very words to me before my untimely demise, love."

Emma laughed nervously, staring at Killian in confusion. "Killian, what are you talking ab-"

"I'm not really here." said Killian, his eyes shining with tears. He grabbed Emma's shoulders and shook them a bit, conveying his frustration. "You knew that, didn't you? I died. You were there, Swan. You were there and you didn't save me. True love's kiss didn't work. You left me to die. It was _your_ fault, Swan. _Your_ fault. You_ let_ me get close to you."

"I tried to tell you not to," tried Emma pathetically, wiping away tears from her eyes and trying to turn from Killian's hard, blaming gaze. But his grip on her was strong, and he forced her to face her guilt.

"You didn't try hard enough, love." And then she was falling, falling...

Emma Swan woke up in a cold sweat. Even in her dreams she found no comfort; the tears began before she even opened her eyes.

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><p>David arrived at the docks in record time; he may have sped through town a bit too fast, but no one else was driving at this hour, anyway.<p>

He removed the flashlight from his belt, and turned it on, the bright beam of light guiding him through the deserted, darkened street. The street lamps were lit, but they didn't cover every area, and the bench that Leroy had told him about just so happened to be bathed in shadows.

David walked at a brisk pace towards the bench in question, which was stationed just in front of where the ships were docked. David shined his flashlight towards the ground below the bench, and saw the large figure who was undoubtedly his man. He approached him cautiously, aware that if he was as inebriated as he looked, he could be dangerous. When David reached him, he bent down to his level, and tapped him on his only slightly visible shoulder.

"Hey, buddy?" asked David quietly, shaking the man a bit. "Wakey, wakey."

The man did not even stir. David tried again, louder this time.

"Hey, buddy. Time to get up. It's too cold to be out, come on with me."

The man groaned, and David sighed; he would try one final time.

"Hey! Come on, get up!"

That seemed to do the trick. The man began grumbling as he rolled over to face David. "Not nice to wake a man who's trying to sleep, _mate_."

David's face paled with shock; he knew that voice. He knew that voice _all_ too well. And the man it belonged to was supposed to be dead.

Hook's face appeared beneath the beam of David's flashlight, and upon being exposed to the brightness of it, he thrust his hook in front of his face.

"Oy, mate! Turn that bloody thing off!"

In shock, the flashlight slipped from David's grip. Completely on auto-pilot, he helped Hook out from beneath the bench, and watched as the pirate before him stood unsteadily on his feet. David didn't miss the crunching sound beneath him when he moved, and looked down to see a broken bottle of rum smashed upon the ground.

"I see Leroy wasn't kidding about you being drunk," said David lightly, attempting humor to try and ease his nerves. He had no idea what was going on.

Hook groaned, and glared at David from beneath dark brows. "Unfortunately, I have sobered enough to remember why I was drunk in the first place."

"Oh?" asked David, his voice slightly too high. Hook raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't question him, for which David was thankful. "And why was that?"

Hook ran his good hand through his hair, the action moving aside his jacket enough so that David could see the bloody, stained shirt beneath it. He held back a shocked gasp. Hook sighed, "Well, that _is_ a marvelous question, isn't it?"

"One that I would love to know the answer to," said David, his shock beginning to wear off. It was being replaced with anger. "Another good question would be: _how are you alive_?"

Hook started laughing; clearly he wasn't _completely_ sober. He was still chortling when he said, "That's priceless, mate. And here I was thinking you of all people would be _glad_ to have me out of the way. You know, so I wouldn't _pillage_ and _plunder_ your daughter."

It took all of David's self-control not to punch Hook in the face for his last comment, so he decided to focus on the first part of it. He responded to Hook's beliefs by saying, "You thought I would be _happy _that my daughter's miserable?"

The smirk was wiped right from Hook's face. His eyes regained the smallest bit of clarity and widened. He stammered, "She's miserable? Without me?" He looked like he didn't dare believe those words were true. He looked...fragile.

"Are you _really_ that blind, Hook?" asked David in utter disbelief. Because surely the pirate couldn't be _serious_?

"Not blind, mate," breathed Hook, beginning to get anxious. He looked around, for the first time noticing his location. He seemed to be trying to figure out what the fastest route to Emma would be. "Not blind," he repeated absent-mindedly. "It was just...something the crocodile said..."

"Rumplestiltskin?" asked David, eyes widening. "And you _believed_ him?"

"Aye, mate. Not my sharpest moment, I admit." Hook began to walk away from David, but in the direction of the sheriff's cruiser. David picked up his flashlight, and proceeded to run to catch up with Hook's pace.

"Hey," said David, grabbing Hook's shoulder and turning him around. Hook looked more than irritated at being delayed. "You still didn't answer how the _hell_ you're alive?"

Hook rolled his eyes. "Long story," he brushed off, breaking away from David and walking to the passenger side of the car. He knocked on the door with his hook and said, "I'll be more than glad to explain on the way."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the lovely comments! I really appreciate them a lot. As well as the favorites and follows :) I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Quite soon, the plot will be picking up. I'm really enjoying the build-up to the Captain Swan reunion, but I do have plans for the story after that so I would love for you guys to stick around! If you read, please review - they truly make my day :) Thanks guys!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

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><p>By 12:30, Emma knew that she wouldn't be getting back to sleep. She'd been lying there for nearly forty-five minutes, unable to find the comfort necessary to nod off. Her bed felt cold, empty, and hollow. It was how she felt, too.<p>

For a little while, trying to help, she'd pretended that it had all been a nightmare. She'd closed her eyes telling herself, _He's asleep. It's too late to call him to tell him about that terrible dream you had. You can tell him tomorrow morning at breakfast. You're going to go to Granny's together, and he's going to eat the woman out of bacon again. You'll laugh, and then you'll see him smile, and you'll feel silly for ever having believed for a minute that he could possibly be dead._

For a few minutes, she'd believed her fabrications. But then she'd heard the door downstairs open and close, she'd heard her parents talking in hushed voices, and reality set back in. They were probably talking about _her_, trying to figure out how to comfort her, or how to bring her back from her sorrowful state.

But nothing could bring her back from her sorrowful state. Nothing in the world could make her feel better. She wasn't sure how she was still crying; she thought the tears must have dried up long ago. But they still flowed like a constant, steady stream down her clammy cheeks. Happiness felt like a lifetime away.

She heard heavy footsteps coming towards her, and quickly closed her eyes, feigning sleep. The last thing she needed was for someone to come and check on her. The second they saw her in her miserable state, they'd be weighed down with worry, and then she wouldn't be able to convince anyone to stop fussing over her. She wanted to be left alone so that she could _grieve_ in peace.

"Emma?" she heard David's soft voice from above her. He sounded concerned, but not as frightfully worried as her mother had. Emma evened her breathing, which was a difficult task considering the tears, and kept her face straight. She would not let him think she was awake.

"Emma?" he tried again, placing a large, strong hand on the small of her back. Emma made no response, but part of her wondered why David was trying to wake her. That didn't seem like the overly worried father she'd become accustomed to. Any other time, he would've said she needed rest, and wouldn't have let a soul come to wake her. She didn't understand the sudden change of tactic.

"Emma, please?" pleaded David, an edge to his voice. "You know I wouldn't wake you if it wasn't important."

Emma sighed; so something was wrong and they needed her to fix it. What else was new? Even though she was exhausted and emotionally drained, she was going to have to get up and fix the rest of the world's problems. Typical.

"What, David?" groaned Emma exasperatedly, turning so that she was lying on her back. Her father was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her with careful eyes. He didn't appear to be fretting for the fate of the entire town, so that was a good sign.

"How are you doing?" he asked her, taking her small hand in his and squeezing it tightly. He conveyed so much support with that simple grasp. Emma felt strengthened by his resolve, and sat up slightly.

"I'm fine," she lied through her teeth, her eyes downcast. "I'm fine." she repeated.

This time, it was David's turn to sigh. He waited until she met his gaze to say, "You know, I might not have your 'super power', but I can tell when I'm being lied to."

Emma broke down a little more, no longer having the strength to fight. She said, "What do you want me to say, David? No, I'm not okay. No part of me is _okay_. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. I feel like my heart's been ripped from my chest. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I can't just _move on_. So I wish people would stop expecting me to!" By the end of her tirade, Emma's eyes were wide and filled to the brim with more tears. She had never cried so much in her life. The lights flickered on and off several times, reacting to the magic within Emma that was tired of fighting.

"No one is expecting you to move on, Emma," swore David, his voice never wavering. He came a bit closer to her, pushing her hair out of her face. "We all understand what you've just gone through. We're here to for you in every way that we can be. All we want is to help you get through this."

"Thank you," whispered Emma fervently, falling back to her pillows. "Then you can help me by leaving me alone."

"I will," promised David. "But first, I need to ask you a question. And I need you to be completely honest with me, okay? Because a lot of people are depending on your answer."

Emma immediately picked up on the seriousness of what David was about to ask her. She nodded solemnly, her eyes drying slightly. She had to be strong for her father.

"Emma," he began. "Did you ever do or say anything to Rumplestiltskin that might cause him to believe that you were relieved by Hook's death?"

Of all questions, Emma had _not_ been expecting that. Her breath whooshed out of her in astonishment, but she quickly recovered. Anger swelled within her with a mighty passion. "What the _hell_ kind of question is that? David, do you even realize what you're saying?" Emma began to cry once more, this time out of anger. "A part of me _died_ today! I feel like I'm never going to be whole again. The man I love just died _in my arms_. And you have the nerve to ask me if I'm relieved? Where did you get _that_ idea? And for _that_ matter, where did Gold?!"

Strangely, and surprising Emma even further, David began to smile. He seemed so genuinely pleased by her answer that Emma wondered if her father had finally snapped. He turned to the entrance of her room, and called out, "See, I told you. I know my daughter. So come in here and face her, why don't you?"

Moments passed, but no one answered David's call. Emma turned from the hallway to her father, concern etched onto her face. "Uh, David? Who are you talking to?"

David, irritated, instructed, "Stay right here," before dashing from the room in search of someone. Emma pulled the covers around her once more and turned away.

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><p>David was almost downstairs again when he noticed Hook leaning heavily against one of the walls in the hallway. He was where David had left him before going to talk with Emma. David approached him angrily, saying, "Way to go, Hook. You just made me look like a fool in front of my daughter. Why didn't you come in? You heard her say how she feels."<p>

Hook closed his eyes to hide the pain in them from David. He whispered, "Yes, I heard her, mate. But I couldn't face her."

"Why not?" asked David, obviously furious. "In case you couldn't tell, she _needs_ you, Hook. Go in there and make things right by her."

"I have put her through so much pain," replied Hook miserably, his head falling to rest upon his knees. "_I_ did that to her."

"No," disagreed David. "You didn't. Rumplestiltskin did that to her by cursing your hook. You couldn't have changed what happened even if you tried. The important thing is that you're alive. You may have been gone from her for a little while, but let me share with you some advice I've gathered from years of experience. You will _always_ find each other." And with that, David went downstairs to be with his wife, leaving Hook to face Emma by himself.

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><p>Emma heard David's stern tone from the hall, but didn't focus on his words. She was trying desperately to go to sleep so she could try to face a new day in the morning. She would wallow in her self-pity when she was alone, but she had a son and a family that she had to be strong for, and she wouldn't let herself fail them.<p>

She heard heavy footsteps approaching her once more. She didn't want to talk to her father again, however; she was just going to have to be honest with him that what she wanted more than anything was to be left alone. She mumbled into the pillow beneath her cheek, "David, I really appreciate your concern, but can you please let me try to go to sleep?"

"Only if you make some room in that bed for me too, love."

Emma's heart reacted to the voice before her mind did. She could feel her pulse increase to nearly a hundred miles per hour, the sound thrumming through her head. Her breathing was picking up, but she wouldn't let her thoughts be clouded. She was probably sleeping again; this dream was too good to be true.

"Please," she whispered hoarsely, cringing at the cracks in her voice. "Please go away. It'll hurt more when I wake up if you don't."

"There's nothing to wake up from, Swan," said Killian gently, sitting on the mattress where David had been just minutes before. "You're entirely coherent, I assure you."

"That's impossible," sighed Emma in agony. "You're dead."

"Unless I'm not," quipped Killian lightly, pressing his good hand to Emma's forehead. He saw her squeeze her eyes shut as tightly as she could. It broke his heart when he saw a tear sneak from beneath those lids. He said, "Won't you even look at me, love?"

"You're not real," replied Emma, her voice an octave higher than it normally was. It was obvious that she didn't believe he was really there, but she didn't fight him when he laid the length of her bed and wrapped his arms around her. Dream or not, the feeling was too wonderful to shatter.

"Another time, I'll show you how _real_ I am, Swan," he whispered in her ear, his hot breath tickling her. The innuendo was blatant, but Emma didn't reply. Killian chuckled sadly, "But for now, I'll settle for having you in my arms."

"But you won't be here when I wake up," said Emma, already beginning to fall asleep in Killian's strong embrace. She felt him shift slightly, probably removing his hook as the next sound she heard was metal hitting her bedside table. This was the most realistic illusion her dreaming mind had ever conjured. She knew she would pay for it later, but for now, she would allow herself the luxury of Killian's company. Besides, it was so much easier to fall asleep when she was with him, real or not.

"Aye, perhaps not," allowed Killian sleepily. The man had had so much to drink only a few hours earlier, it was no surprise that he, too, was nodding off. "Guess you'll just have to wait until morning to find out, won't you?"

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><p><strong>I cringe at how cliché this probably was, but it was the only way I could think of to get these two back to a point where the Captain Swan fluff can commence! My biggest priority is making these characters feel realistic thoughts and emotions, which is quite difficult to achieve when considering the situation I have placed them in. I'm sorry for the delay in this post, I must have written this chapter five different ways, but I wasn't pleased with any of them. This was the best that I knew I was going to be able to do for this chapter. I know Emma hasn't had her major reunion-feelings yet, but fear not! That chapter is coming out next :) that'll be the fun one to write, when she and Killian can be <em>truly<em> reunited (you know, when they're not kinda drunk or half asleep). In any case, bear with me, because believe me, you won't be disappointed in the amazing fluffiness that your feels will soon be exposed to! So thank you so much for clicking on, it means the world to me! If you read, don't forget to review - comments are so important to me, I love hearing about what ya'll thought. You're the best! Take care :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

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><p>The next morning, Emma woke up alone in her bed.<p>

She was disoriented, to say the least. Her head ached from the crying she'd done the night before, and her eyes were so swollen she could barely open them. Her muscles were sore and tired, causing her to wonder how long she'd been asleep. She remembered it being quite late when she'd finally found rest for the night; it was probably already early afternoon.

Emma sighed; the last thing she needed was for everyone to begin treating her as though she was going to break. They should've woken her up _hours_ ago. Her emotional issues aside, she still had a job and a family that she was responsible for, and it wasn't up to her parents whether or not she could handle it at the moment. _She_ was the one who needed to make that decision for herself. Unhappily, Emma removed herself from the warmth of her blankets, and picked through her wardrobe to find something suitable to wear. She had to begin to focus on small tasks that could be easily accomplished; she knew it was the only way she would be able to make it through the day.

Emma settled on a comfortable pair of black pants and a cotton shirt, and then pulled her tangled mess of blonde hair into a ponytail. She tried to ignore the blotchy redness that seemed to take over the entirety of her face. Glancing at the clock, she was relieved to find that it was only just after ten. She hadn't wasted her _entire_ morning.

Emma stared at herself in the mirror, focusing on her irritated eyes. She told herself softly but firmly, "You can do this. Just get through today, and then you can break down all you want again tonight when you come home."

Turning away, Emma walked to where her shoes rested in front of her bedside table. She slipped them on quickly, and was just about to leave when she saw something that stopped her heart almost completely.

There, lying by her half-empty bottle of water and a box of tissues, was Killian's hook. Eyes wide, Emma picked it up, noting how heavy it felt in her small hands. It reflected the light in the room, creating an eerily beautiful glow. Emma pressed its cold metal to her cheek; she was nearly knocked backwards by the flood of emotions and memories that overwhelmed her. Killian had gently stroked her cheek with that hook a thousand times, and each time had meant something different to her. Now, she was able to distinctly remember each of those times, and she felt a bitter ache in her heart.

How did she come to possess this? Who gave it to her?

Holding the hook closely to her chest, but being sure not to hurt herself with it, Emma slowly left her bedroom and descended to the lower half of the loft. Emma knew that Henry was at Regina's, as she had been promising Henry a breakfast at Granny's for some time. Henry had probably tried to wriggle out of going this morning, so that he could stay and make sure that she was okay, but Emma was glad that Regina had obviously convinced her son to go do something productive. Henry didn't need to see how hurt his mother was.

Emma walked to the kitchen, and set the hook down on the counter. David and Mary Margaret weren't around, and since Emma couldn't hear the sounds of her little brother crying, she deduced that she was home by herself. This was unexpected, but Emma was so thankful for the alone time. It was exactly what she wanted.

Emma walked slowly to the refrigerator, and scanned its contents until her eyes settled on some iced tea that her mother had obviously made. She removed the pitcher gingerly, and placed it on the marble counter with ease. She found herself a plastic cup with a picture of Spider-Man on the side of it, and began to pour the drink as gently as she could. The last thing she needed was to spill the stupid thing.

It suddenly seemed to become much quieter, and Emma paused in confusion. Why was there suddenly so much less sound? And then the door to the bathroom opened, and Emma realized that no, she wasn't alone, and the reason it was suddenly silent was because the shower had stopped.

Emma sighed; _so much for alone time_.

She busied herself by drinking her tea, and then beginning to make a pot of coffee. The smell of it soothed her and woke her even further. She was so focused on her task that she wasn't aware someone had joined her until they spoke.

"Good morning,"

The voice was not the sweet chirp of her mother, nor was it the deep voice of her father. It wasn't even the energized, lowering voice of her now-teenage son. It was, however, a beautiful voice, and one she never thought she would hear again.

Emma turned quickly, her breath rushing out of her at the sight of Killian in her father's bathrobe, hair still dripping from the shower he had obviously just taken. Emma's eyes widened, and all she could manage was, "I'm still dreaming."

The smile slide right off Killian's face, and his entire person became weighed down with seriousness. He approached Emma cautiously, reaching out his hand to caress her cheek. He said, "You were never dreaming in the first place, love."

Emma gulped, and closed her eyes as Killian's hand touched her cheek. She whispered, "Yes, I was. Am. You were dead, I watched you die."

If Emma's eyes had been open, she would've seen Killian shake his head. He told her softly, "I didn't die, Swan. The crocodile took me back to that infernal shop of his and hid me away in the back room. He's the one who did this in the first place!"

Emma's eyes snapped open, and she stared at Killian in disbelief. She heard his words about Rumplestiltskin, but those weren't what she was focusing on. She asked in a childlike voice, "You're really here?"

Killian's eyes twinkled as he replied, "You can't get rid of me that easily, lass."

"Killian," whispered Emma fearfully. She reached her hand up to touch his. His skin was so warm, so real, and for the first time, Emma felt hope swell in her chest. Not thinking twice, she hurled herself into Killian's arms, pressing herself against him as hard as she could. He was surprised at first, but then without hesitation, he wrapped his strong arms around her and held her close.

She couldn't get _close_ enough to him; it seemed as though, dream or not, she wasn't about to let him go ever again. She clung to him for dear life, tears cascading and heart pounding. She heard him trying to explain what happened, but all she was aware of was the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was the surest sign that he was alive, and it was the most soothing thing she could hope to have from him. Though, once she'd calmed down a bit, she was able to focus more on his words.

"...and once he'd said that you were relieved, of course, I began to rethink..."

Suddenly, David's words from the night before rang through her mind, and she interrupted Killian mid-sentence.

"Gold," she breathed angrily, her eyes flickering up to Killian's. Heat flashed through her pupils, and she felt hatred begin to boil in her heart. "_He_ did this to you?"

"Aye," nodded Killian, his own eyes darkening as well.

"_Why_ didn't you say anything when we found you with Belle?" growled Emma passionately, tears forming once more, this time from anger. Killian sighed, still enraged, but not as obviously as Emma was.

"Because I thought I was dying," said Killian slowly, trying to explain himself but realizing how foolish it all sounded once he was saying the words aloud. "And I knew that the crocodile's vengeance had nothing to do with the lass. She deserved her happy ending; I owed her that much."

Emma felt herself soften at Killian's gentle words, but that moment of happiness was quickly eradicated by her growing need to find Gold and set him on fire. She detached herself from Killian's arms, as painful as doing so was, and made a beeline for where her car keys were carelessly laying on the counter. She grasped them quickly and made for the front door, only to be blocked by Killian's body.

"Get out of my way," Emma said sourly, hating that she was being mean to Killian but knowing that she had to go after Gold. He was _not_ getting away with it this time, oh no. Not when his actions almost rid her of the thing she loved most, next to Henry. Emma was _going_ to make him pay.

"We need to think this _through_, Swan," reasoned Killian stubbornly, refusing to move. "If you'll recall, I carried a vendetta against Rumplestiltskin for three hundred years - you can see how well _that's_ worked out."

"I don't care!" screamed Emma in disbelief, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that her entire world had almost been destroyed by the man her son called _"Grandfather"_. "It's different!" she insisted. "He almost killed you!"

Killian's eyes suddenly filled with sadness, and he pleaded with Emma to understand. "He _did_ kill Milah. And I was as determined to kill him then as you are now. You see what happened." Killian pulled the sleeve of his bathrobe up to show Emma the stump where his hand used to be. Emma had seen it before, but tried to contain her surprise that she'd forgotten the reason it was there. Killian continued, "Please, don't just barge in there blindly, love. As it is, he thinks I must have left town last night."

"He is _not_ getting away with this," growled Emma, dropping her keys and walking back towards the coffee. Killian exhaled and joined her. She was still angry, as she had every right to be, but she at least seemed more sensible. Killian was outraged as well, but for the moment, only allowed himself to be overwhelmed by the feeling of being with Emma again.

As Emma poured the coffee for herself and Killian, her eyes trailed to where his hook was still resting where she'd placed it only minutes before. She put down the pot, and picked up the gleaming piece of metal. She approached Killian slowly, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to face her, immediately noticing the object she held.

"I believe this belongs to you." she said quietly, handing the hook to its rightful owner. Killian gave her a fleeting smile, and tucked the hook away into the pocket of the bathrobe.

"Thank you for keeping it safe," he whispered in the most charming way he could muster. The sound of it took Emma's breath away, and subsequently, Killian chuckled. He pulled Emma into his arms once more, holding her to him so tightly that, in that moment, nothing short of the apocalypse could have ripped her away from him. And then he was kissing her, twisting his good hand through her hair and showing her how much she was loved. Emma responded eagerly, not caring that his hair was still dripping wet, only focusing on the heat of their bodies in that precious minute of joy. They kissed with more passion than they ever had before, and as they pulled away and looked into each other's eyes, only one thought crossed Emma's frayed mind.

"I love you."

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><p><strong>Awe! I seriously went overboard on the fluff while writing some of this. Let's hope for a Captain Swan "I love you" coming up in the show soon, please! Sorry this chapter took so long to post, I have been so unbelievably busy with an event the last two weeks, I've hardly had time to do <em>anything<em>. Now that it's over, however, I should finally get some free time back to write :) Thank you so much to all of my wonderful fans! Your reviews have been both kind and encouraging :) I don't think I'm going to make this story very long - only a few more chapters at most. But I have just posted a Captain Swan one-shot this afternoon, and I plan on beginning a full-length Captain Swan multi-chap with chapters _much_ longer than this. Would you guys be interested? I haven't settled on a plot yet, but I'll let you guys know when I do. Okay, that's enough of this irritatingly long author's note. Thank you a million times for clicking on, and don't forget to review! Ciao :)**


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